


Dancing with the Avengers: Opening Night

by Eiiri



Series: Dancing with the Avengers [2]
Category: Dancing with the Stars (US) RPF, Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Bruce Doesn't Dance, Bucky Is A Troll, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Dancing with the Avengers, Dancing with the stars - Freeform, Gen, Implied Clint Barton/Phil Coulson - Freeform, Matt Murdock & Foggy Nelson Friendship, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Natasha is a freaking ballerina and don't you forget it, Past Bruce Banner/Betty Ross - Freeform, Reality TV, Thank god for the six-second delay, Tony is a Showboat, Wanda is not good at people, he's fast, she's weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-13 14:33:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9127888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eiiri/pseuds/Eiiri
Summary: Episode one of a very special season of Dancing with the Stars!Sometimes superheroes need a PR boost, Tony decided getting the entire team on DWTS was a good way to do that.  This is the result.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fictionalized season 26 of DWTS. (In real life at time of posting we are between seasons 23 and 24).  
> Assume Tony is paying for any amount they go over their timeslot.  
> Music for this episode can be found at: http://8tracks.com/dwta/opening-night-dancing-with-the-avengers#  
> Thanks to my friend Eliana for assistance writing the judges' comments.

Under the opening trumpet riff of “4 Minutes,” a helpful title reading “New York City” faded into existence over a shot of the Avengers Tower landing pad as the team, plus the two lawyers who'd gotten Bucky acquitted, filed onto the quinjet in their usual, day-to-day clothes. With fairly obvious visual effects, the jet took off, then, as the vocals of the song started, landed in a city street helpfully labeled “Hollywood.” The ramp of the jet lowered in a shower of confetti and a male dancer—Mark Ballas—skipped out in a heavily bedazzled facsimile of a tacsuit. He twirled and held out a hand into the darkness within the jet. A red-manicured hand grasped his, followed by Natasha Romanov dripping with black-beaded fringe as her name materialized in all caps in front of them. He pulled her to him and they danced out of frame together.

A pretty blond woman—Kym Johnson—twirled her way out of the jet, also in a heavily bedazzled facsimile of a tacsuit, but it was leaning far into catsuit territory. She was quickly joined by Tony Stark in a red velvet suit with gold embroidered lapels while his name took up where Natasha's had been. He leapt down from the ramp and lifted her down after him.

A brunet in a ponytail dressed exactly like Kym—Karina Smirnoff—pulled Steve Rogers out of the jet, iconic Captain America shield in hand, somewhat at odds with his jeans and red Converse. He turned to toss the shield back inside, she straightened his red tie and the collar of his white buttonfront then forcibly back-led him down the ramp out of view.

Also in a tacsuit-catsuit, Anna Trebunskaya, her red hair swept up into an elaborate bun, sashayed out of the jet. She turned back to beckon her partner. The next instant, Pietro Maximoff blew past her and she caught him by the back of his silver brocade vest. He back peddled with a sheepish grin and danced away with her.

The next person out of the jet somersaulted out onto the ramp and popped up, revealing himself to be Val Chmerkovskiy, suited up just like Mark. A shimmery red haze formed around him and he looked a little startled as he levitated about an inch and floated off to the side, allowing Wanda Maximoff to duck out from behind him, grinning playfully in her red and black ruffled dress. The haze vanished, he twirled her, and they danced out of frame.

Another blond—Lindsay Arnold—emerged from the jet, followed by Clint Barton, an arrow even more violently purple than his buttonfront clamped between his teeth. He pulled her into a hold and they mockingly tangoed away.

Peta Murgatroyd walked coolly down the ramp, arm in arm with Matt Murdock, the auburn haired man in a crisp black suit with a shirt the same red as his glasses. They were followed by Jenna Johnson, laughing as Foggy Nelson _attempted_ to twerk in his slacks and pink buttonfront before she pulled him out of frame.

Edyta Śliwińska was the next out of the jet with Bruce Banner, who was wearing a purple shirt with green tweed slacks. Sam Wilson shouldered his way between them, pulling Witney Carson along with him. They struck a pose while Edyta steered a glowering Bruce out of frame. Witney playfully shoved Sam's shoulder, he stumbled and they cleared the ramp.

Sharna Burgess, red curls bouncing, half dragged Bucky Barnes out onto the ramp by his mechanical hand, looked him up and down in his rolled up sleeves and vest, then buffed his elbow with her skirt, earning a roll of his eyes. He hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her off. She slapped his butt in retaliation just before they were out of view.

After them, James Rhodes and Allison Holker pseudo-waltzed down the ramp.

Finally, Thor walked out of the jet, carrying Emma Slater in his arms like a princess, the both of them in red capes. He set her down and twirled her, then they both went wheeling away.

A swirl of cape filled the frame. When it passed, the ballroom was revealed, all the pros and their respective Avengers dancing on stage with flashing lights, surrounded by cheering spectators. As the song ended, the dancers struck a group pose around Tom the announcer. Smile on his face and mic in hand, Tom lifted a hand in greeting. “Welcome to Dancing With the Stars!” The crowd roared its approval. He let them settle before continuing. “I'm Tom Bergeron and this season, we're Dancing with the Avengers, which, of course, means it's going to mess up our shooting schedule if they have to go save the world. That's the price of working with superheroes, I guess.” Behind him, Bucky laughed. Tom waded out of the clump of competitors as they bopped excitedly to the new background music and patted Wanda on the shoulder as he passed her dancing with her brother. He joined Erin at the end of the stage. “Our stars hardly need any introduction, but the teleprompter says we have to anyway.”

Erin laughed. “We have Iron Man, Captain America, the Black Widow, Bucky Barnes and his hotshot lawyers, Matthew Murdock and Foggy Nelson.”

“The Maximoff twins: Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch,” Tom added, “Dr. Bruce Banner, Falcon, Warmachine, Hawkeye, and Thor.”

“I don't know what else there is to say.”

“Me neither, so let's get right to it,” Tom said cordially. “Let's take a look at what happened when multi-billionaire, the Iron Man himself, Tony Stark, met his partner.”

It cut to Tony, sitting on top of a workbench in the lab of his L.A. mansion, snacking on a bag of freeze dried strawberries. “Do I really have to say my name?” he asked whoever was behind the camera. “I mean, c'mon, I'm Tony Stark. Everybody knows who I am. I'm Iron Man and I'm tabloid fodder.”

There was an open door behind him. A blond head peeked around the edge of the door, and a disembodied voice said, “Sir, I do believe your dance partner has arrived, if you'd turn around.”

Tony turned as Kym stepped into the lab. He hopped off the bench and put his arms up. “Hey!” She laughed, returning the greeting, and he hugged her. He pulled away and asked, teasingly, “Now if I promise you a car if we win, do I get to marry you too?”

Kym laughed and shook her head. “I think Pepper would object to that.”

“Oh, I'm probably going to get smacked in the back of the head just for asking.” Tony grinned at the camera and pointed to Kym. “I know her. We've met at rich people stuff. I'm a rich people, she married a rich people so now she's a rich people. Isn't it cool how that works?”

“Yeah,” Kym agreed.

“We're gonna be great,” Tony said definitively.

“We're gonna be awesome,” Kym corrected. They high fived.

In the practice studio, Kym planted Tony's hands on her hips, “Here, and you have to follow as I move.”

“Well, I won't say no to that,” Tony said with a rogueish smirk that made Kym laugh.

Being interviewed alone, Kym took a breath, “Tony is such a showboat, he has a huge personality, and once he focuses all that energy into something he can do anything—he built a flying suit of armor for crying out loud. It's just getting him to focus.”

In the practice studio, Kym crossed her arms while Tony fiddled with his hair in the mirror. “Tony.”

“Yup.” He turned around quickly. “Sorry.”

A different day, as evidenced by different clothing, Tony stood idly at the edge of the room, tapping at his smartwatch. “Tony,” Kym said, “do I need to make you take that thing off?”

“Nope.” He blanked the screen.

In her interview, Kym said, “His brain's always on seven things at once, which would be great if those seven things were all about dancing.”

They went through a few steps in practice, Kym counting out loud as they danced. They finished the steps and she clapped her hands. “Yes! Just like that. Good.”

“F*ck yeah!” Tony crowed.

“Now, question: how would you feel about me ripping your shirt open? I know you have some scars and whatnot, so I don't know if you'd be comfortable with that or…?”

He stared at her until she stopped talking, then dramatically pulled off his tshirt and tossed it to the corner of the room, putting the arc reactor in his chest and the surrounding scars on display without a care. “Shirts are for chumps.”

“Okay, you're comfortable.”

Things dissolved back to the ballroom, where Tony, dressed in a red buttonfront and gold pants, stood hand in hand with Kym, whose dress dripped with gold sequins. As Katy Perry's “Last Friday Night” began to play, they started their cha cha. At the “It's a blacked-out blur/But I'm pretty sure it ruled” line, Tony flashed peace signs to the audience like Nixon. The next verse, on the line about ripping a dress, Kym tore open Tony's shirt. At the end of the song, the two of them fell to the floor, leaning against one another, legs splayed out, looking for all the world like they were just left behind after a wild party.

The crowd cheered. Kym and Tony helped each other up and went over to stand with Tom. “Very nice, very nice,” Tom said. “I thought that was a great start to our season, but we all know it doesn't matter what I think. Let's see what our judges have to say. Len?”

“There’s no denying it was a fun dance, but I would have like to see a crisper cha cha cha,” Len said with boos from the audience. “You’ve got personality but all this production and fluff, it takes away from the integrity of the dance. You’re a natural performer,” the crowd laughed as Tony smirked suggestively, “but focus on getting the technique right next time.”

“I've been called a natural performer before.” Tony waggled his eyebrows. Kym smacked his shoulder.

“Now that was a fun way to start the night,” Carrie Ann giggled, trying and failing to ignore Tony's crass joke. “You’re a natural on stage and have so much personality. You’re incredibly fun to watch. I have to disagree with Len; I think there was a lot of recognizable cha cha in there but focus on your footwork for next time.”

Tony nodded as Bruno rose from his chair and placed one hand on his hip. “Well, Mr. Stark you certainly know a lot about wild Friday nights, now don’t you? I liked all the production and showmanship. Own that spotlight, darling. However, Carrie Ann is right; you need to focus on your footwork. Kym is a very talented teacher, give her your attention. But you’re a joy to watch, darling; I can’t wait to see more of you.”

“Why don't the two of you head up to the skybox to get your scores?” Tom said, gesturing to the stairs.

“So, first Avenger on the dance floor, how did that feel?” Erin asked, holding the mic out to Tony.

“Well,” Tony laughed, still half breathless, “that felt like every Friday night of my life from age fifteen to forty in about two minutes, which is exhausting.”

“But with less booze,” Kym added.

Tony nodded. “I'm completely sober, you know, except for the adrenaline high, but that doesn't count.”

Erin laughed. “The adrenaline high is different. I'm sure this has nothing on the rush that comes with saving the world, but we have more sequins. Or, in your case, shiny gold pants.”

“I know, right?” Tony said excitedly, showing off his legs. “I love these pants, I'm the freaking boy from Oz.”

“They are great pants,” Erin agreed. “Let's get your scores.”

Carrie Ann Inaba: “Seven!”

Len Goodman: “Six!”

Bruno Tonioli: “Seven!”

“That's a twenty out of thirty for Tony and Kym,” Tom clarified.

In the sky box, Tony and Kym high fived.

“Dancing with the Avengers continues with Captain America, next!” Tom announced just before they went to commercial.


	2. Chapter 2

They came back from commercial to the troop dancers, all in their facsimile tacsuits, dancing, before the camera turned to Tom. “That's our troop getting us back into this very special season of Dancing with the Stars. And we're back with Steve Rogers, better known as Captain America. Let's take a look at his journey from super soldier, to dancing star.”

On the balcony of a hotel restaurant, Steve shrugged at the camera in his too-tight tshirt. “I'm Steve Rogers. I'm either ninety-eight or twenty-nine depending on how you want to count it. Uh, I cannot dance. I stepped on a lot of girls' feet growing up. I would like to preemptively apologize to my partner, whoever she may be, because I weigh, like, twice what I did back then.”

The sliding door to the balcony opened and Karina stepped out, big smile on her face. “Steve!” she exclaimed, then sobered, “I mean, Captain.” She saluted.

“You don't have to do that,” Steve said, extending a hand to shake. “And just Steve is fine.”

She returned the handshake, then held up her hands, palms out to him, and flexed her fingers a little. “Is it okay if I…?”

He sighed a little and rolled his eyes, but nodded and offered his arm. “Go ahead.”

She squeezed his bicep and grinned at him. “You get this a lot don't you?”

“All the time.”

She stepped back. “Now, I have a bit of a confession.”

“Yeah?”

“I'm from the Bronx.”

“Oh.” Steve crossed his arms in playful disdain. “We might have a problem here.”

“I hope we can work through our differences.”

“Ehh.” Steve shrugged. “I manage to get on with Tony's pet whizkid from Queens. We'll be okay.”

“That's good,” she laughed.

In the practice studio, Karina informed Steve, “So, we're doing a jive.”

“Okay.” Steve rubbed his hands together. “I have no idea what that is.”

“Well, I'm going to teach you.”

“Okay.”

Being interviewed, Steve said flatly to the camera, “I really do not know how to dance.”

In practice, Karina showed Steve a few steps and said, “It's a lot like East Coast swing.”

“See, about two dozen different people have tried to teach me to swing dance, and only one of 'em got anywhere with it.”

“Who's that one person?”

“Natasha.”

In her own interview, Karina said, “Steve thinks he can't dance, but he's actually not bad. He's just a little clumsy. It's kind of endearing. When it's not painful….”

In practice, Steve stepped on Karina's foot and she yelped. “Sorry, I'm sorry,” Steve said quickly.

Another day: “Did I just step on your foot again?”

“Yeah,” Karina whined.

“I'm so sorry.”

“I'm okay.”

And another day: “I'm so sorry! Jeez, I keep stepping on you.”

“Do you not know where your feet are?”

“I know where they are I just still expect them to be smaller!”

In the ballroom, Steve sat on the top step of the stage stairs in his red converse and bluejeans, sketchbook open on his knee. Karina strutted up behind him as the band started up with “Lollipop” by Mika, planted her hands on her hips over the blue-petticoated skirt of her tricolor dress, tapped Steve on one shoulder, then leaned around the other way to snatch his sketchbook and pencil. Steve hopped up as she tossed the props away, then they trotted down the stairs together to really start their jive. The audience got excited both when she grabbed him by the tie, and when he swung her through his legs. It ended with her perched on his knee where his sketchbook had been.

She popped back up and gave him a double high five as they went over to Tom.

“I didn't step on your feet!”

“You didn't step on my feet!” Karina agreed happily.

“And we're all very proud of you for it,” Tom said wryly. “Bruno, why don't we start with you? Oh. Oh, no. What do we have here?”

Bruno had come around the judges' table and was feeling up Steve's pecs through his white shortsleeved buttonfront while Steve looked to the ceiling in resignation. “He's real, ladies and gentlemen,” Bruno declared, then stepped away. “I had to make sure!” He sauntered back to his chair, but didn't bother to sit.

“Everyone does that,” Steve said to Tom before Bruno could start in on his spiel. “I don't know why everyone feels the need to do that.”

A voice called from the skybox, “Because you're hot!”

Steve sighed. “That was Bucky.”

Karina and Carrie Ann both laughed. Bruno shot a dark look toward the skybox then carried on. “Anyway, Captain, I didn’t expect you to be so light on your feet considering how large you are. You're a big guy, but you sure don't move like it. You do need to clean up your footwork and make those kicks and flicks sharper. You do have very nice posture and strong shoulders which will serve you well for the hold in the ballroom dances. Keep up the good work, darling.”

“Len?” Tom prompted.

“That was jive from start to finish with little messing about, so strong start on the choreography. However, the footwork was a bit sloppy. Kicks and flicks should be quick and sharp and at times it seemed like you were trying to keep up with Karina. I’d like to see you take on the role of the leading man, especially for the ballroom dances.”

Carrie Ann leaned forward on the desk. “You know what I didn’t expect to see from you was that level of showmanship. You have an infectious stage presence. I do agree that the footwork could have been a little cleaner, but it was a good first dance. Lots of fun and energy.”

Steve ducked his head, flattered, before he and Karina were ushered off to get their scores.

“I'm sorry, but I have to.” Erin reached out to squeeze Steve's arm. He rolled his eyes.

Karina leaned around him. “I did the same thing.”

“Everyone does it.” Steve held his hands up. “I don't get it.”

Tony popped up around his shoulder to say, “You got swoll and girls wanna bake cookies on your abs,” then disappeared again.

Steve's forehead crinkled. Erin shook her head. “You do look great, and the two of you looked great out there together. Now, Steve, you were saying that you can't dance. I think we can all agree that you were wrong.”

“No, I really could not dance, but Karina did the impossible and taught me.” He put an arm around her shoulders. “I mean, I had a brief stint in show business. It's really all the same, put on your chorus girl face and just do it.”

“Very true, very true,” Erin agreed. “Speaking of chorus girls, though, Karina's dress sure makes her look like a Cappette, doesn't it?”

Steve cringed. “I hate that phrase. But yeah, it's fwoofier than the USO girls' costumes were, but it's similar.”

Karina side-hugged him. “I've got nothing against being your new Cappette.”

Steve shook his head, half-laughing. Erin held up a hand. “Let's get your scores.”

Carrie Ann Inaba: “Six!”

Len Goodman: “Six!

Bruno Tonioli: “Seven!”

“A nineteen out of thirty,” Erin said. “You must be happy about that.” She held the mic for Steve.

He shrugged and laughed. “I'm still just happy I didn't step on her feet.”

“From America's posterboy, to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s most talented spysassin,”Tom said by way of transition. “Let's see how things went for the Black Widow, Natasha Romanov.”

 

Perched on a stool, her legs crossed, dressed in leggings and a hoodie, Natasha grinned at the camera. “My name is either Natasha or Natalia Romanov, Romanoff, or Romanova depending on which bit of paperwork you're looking at. And that's without even getting into all my aliases. Which, for security reasons, we're not even going to touch.” She shifted her weight and folded her hands. “Tony had a bit of a time talking some of the others into this, but I was on board from the moment he started half-joking about it. I love to dance. I fell in love with ballet as a little girl, kept with it all my life—dance is a great escape from the kind of work I do—but I've never really done ballroom.”

Mark came in and Natasha hopped off her stool to hug him. “Hey!” He stepped back. “I was thinking about trying to sneak up on you, but then that sounded like a good way to get myself killed.”

“Maybe not killed but definitely hurt.” She flashed him her teeth. He shot a playful _help me_ look at the camera.

In practice, Natasha tapped her fingertips together deviously. “What if I have an idea?”

“Let's hear it.”

“You wanna catch me?”

“What kind of catch are we talking about here?”

“Like I take a running leap, and you catch me.”

Mark shrugged. “We can try that.”

Being interviewed, Natasha hugged her knees. “I normally dance by myself. If I want a partner, I have to badger Clint or Barnes into it. Just having a partner is great, and Mark is a fantastic dancer. I love it.” She grinned. “And he's hot.” She laughed.

Practicing, both Natasha and Mark folded gracefully to the floor and swept their hands in an arc around themselves.

In his own interview, Mark said, “Natasha is really a joy to dance with. I mean, I'm terrified of her, I can't help but have in the back of my mind 'this woman could kill me with her little finger.' But she's so graceful and she loves dancing, which makes her a lot of fun to have as a partner.”

After missing a step practicing, Natasha cursed under her breath in Russian, stalked a couple paces away, then turned back. “Let's do it again.”

Things faded back to the ballroom, where Natasha—wearing a plain, blue, buttonfront dress, her hair pulled into twin french braids—stood center stage with her back against Mark's chest, his arms wrapped around her, the both of them barefoot. Kelly Clarkson's “Break Away” began, and Mark twirled Natasha away from him. Their dancing led them away from one another until, at the beginning of the chorus, she ran back to him and leapt, arms outstretched like wings, into his arms.

As the song ended, Natasha leaned her forehead against Mark's and the crowd cheered. She pulled away, smiling, and looped her arm through his to skip over to where Tom was beckoning them.

“Beautiful, beautiful,” Tom praised. “I'm going to stay over here, if you don't mind. Mark, you're a brave man.”

Natasha laughed. “I like you, you're safe.”

“Well, that's a comfort. Anyway. Let's start with Carrie Ann,” Tom prompted.

“You know, we've all seen you on T.V., on the news,” Carrie Ann began with a gesture encompassing herself, her fellow judges, and the audience both in the ballroom and at home, “and you're incredible, but a little bit terrifying.”

Natasha grinned wickedly. “Thank you.”

“Oh, well, you're welcome,” Carrie Ann laughed almost nervously. “But we normally only get to see you as this femme fatale Jason Bourne type, and here tonight we've gotten to see this sweeter softer side of you, that's just as impressive, but, I guess, reassuringly human. Your experience with ballet is apparent, for other dance styles you're gonna want to try to rein that in a little, but for a contemporary, especially on the first night, it's no problem at all. Beautiful dance to start off with.”

“You’re a lovely dancer,” Len said, “and you move very gracefully, which comes as no surprise. Your footwork was very clean and controlled, and your lines were excellent. That grace will translate well into the ballroom dances. I’m excited to see how you’ll adapt that to the Latin dances.”

“You are a joy to watch, darling,” Bruno said, excited. “You truly glide across the dance floor with such ease. What I didn’t expect was the depth of emotion you brought into the dance. On T.V., like Carrie Ann said, you’re this very aloof femme fatale, and it’s hard to get a read on you. You’re really one to keep an eye on, darling. Your competitors need to watch out.”

Natasha grinned and looped her arm through Mark's to go off and chat with Erin.

“First of our only two ladies this season, Natasha,” Erin said, “and that was gorgeous. Now, ever since dress rehearsal, Bucky's been saying 'that's not Natasha, that's Sasha' and you've been following him around, speaking Russian in this creepy sweet little girl voice. I don't think he's referring to our dancer Sasha. Can we get a little explanation about that?”

Natasha shook her head. “No, he means me. It's the braids. He knew me briefly when I was little—long story that you do not have the security clearance for—but I used to wear my hair in braids as a kid and I went by Sasha at the time. I'm just messing with him.”

“Okay, okay. Mark, I think everybody is very aware that this dainty little lady is probably the most dangerous thing any of us have ever been anywhere near. What's it like for you dancing with her?”

Mark shook his head. “You know, she's great. Kinda scary, but as long as I don't make her mad I think we're gonna be great."

“I think we should all try to avoid making her mad,” Erin said. “Let's get your scores.”

Carrie Ann Inaba: “Eight!”

Len Goodman: “Eight!”

Bruno Tonioli: “Eight!”

Natasha leaned up on her toes to kiss Mark on the cheek, he rubbed her arm in return.

“Those are really good opening night scores,” Erin commented.

“Of course they are.” Natasha grinned. “I'm awesome.”

Tom laughed and half nodded as it cut to him. “Well, no one is going to argue with her on that one. Next up, let's take a look at Captain America's best guy and how things went for him and Sharna.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everybody.

Tom gestured up to the screens.

“I'm Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, retired, and,”Bucky hid behind his hand laughing, then shrugged, “I don't know what I'm doing here. I blame Steve.” A muffled voice asked him something from behind the camera. Bucky smacked the arm of his chair with his left hand. “Hell yes I'm proud of that rank.” Part of the arm belatedly broke off, but Buck caught it. “Oh, crap. I can fix that. But, yeah, Steve still gets to be Cap, so I oughta be Sarge to go with him.”

When Sharna came in, she held her arms open to him. “Can I hug you?”

“Sure,” Bucky chuckled. He wrapped his arms around her then let her go.

“Okay, I've gotta get a look at this arm.” She lifted his hand up, he wiggled his fingers. “Wow, that is just, wow.” She tapped her fingernails on his wrist. “Is it heavy?”

He shrugged. “Weighs less than the old one did.”

Sharna nodded. In her interview, she said, “His prosthetic is insane. It's probably the best prosthetic arm in the world, but it still has its issues.”

In practice, Sharna took Bucky's hands in hold, started to say something, but stopped and glanced at her hand in his left. “I'm scared I'm gonna get pinched. How valid is that fear?”

“Uh,” Bucky hedged, “I have fingerless gloves in my jacket.” He pulled away to get them.

Another day, she grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him gently. “Loosen up.”

In his interview, Bucky held his hands palm up, expression sheepish. “I don't want to hurt her.” He waved his left hand. “This thing doesn't have any give. You saw me break my last chair.”

Back in the ballroom, Bucky and Sharna circled each other during the opening of “Ghost” by Mystery Skulls, closing in on one another, then the bass dropped andhe pulled her intohold. Her silver beaded dance dress shimmered under the lights, quite the contrast to his crisp black vest and tie and white shirt. Their cha cha was flirty and fun, definitely sexy—Sharna's dress didn't leave much to the imagination and Buck's muscles showed plainly through his shirt. At the end, he dipped her. The audience cheered, Sharna straightened up and punched Bucky's softer arm excitedly before taking his hand and leading him over to Tom.

Tom held out a hand for Bucky to fistbump, which he did _very_ gently. Tom laughed, then prompted. “Bruno?”

“I see a lot of potential in you, James,” Bruno said, almost flirting. “Your lines are crisp and your arms move very fluidly. But the fluidity did not translate to your hips and feet, darling. You’re a little choppy from the waist down, I’m afraid. But I really think you could do it. You have real leading man potential. You just need to loosen up, darling.”

Carrie Ann folded her hands. “You know, we've all seen you on the news and you’re very mysterious, angsty, but you've got a long history as the ladies' man friend, so I wasn’t sure what to expect from you for such a carefree, happy dance. I, unfortunately, have to agree with Bruno. Your footwork could have been sharper and there was a lack of hip action. But you do have a lot of potential. Remember to have fun with this. Let go a little.”

“Unfortunately, this was a weak cha cha for me,” Len said. The audience booed and he waved them off. “You were very stiff in the hips, which is what every Latin dance is about. But you went full out and gave it your best go. There’s a lot of room for improvement. Loosen up a little.”

Bucky nodded and pushed a loose lock of hair out of his face, then let Sharna lead him off to the Red Room where Erin was waiting for them. “Well, that looked like fun, was that fun?” She held the mic out for Bucky.

He laughed shortly and nodded. “Dancing with a beautiful girl is always fun.”

“Oh, flatterer,” Erin teased.

Sharna shook him by the shoulder. “Now if we could just get you to _relax_ while you're having fun, that would be great.”

He laughed. “We'll work on it, we'll work on it.”

“Well, you've got plenty of time to work on it,” Erin assured. “Let's get your scores.”

Carrie Ann Inaba: “Six!”

Len Goodman: “Five.”

Bruno Tonioli: “Six!”

Sharna nodded enthusiastically and said something the mic didn't quite pick up. Bucky gave her a one-armed hug on his right.

It cut to Tom surrounded by a gaggle of twenty-somethings in Stark Industries T-shirts. “Next up, everyone's favorite multidisciplinary physicist and his time with our pro who just can't seem to stay retired, Edyta.”

 

“I'm Bruce Banner,” Bruce said, leaning against a desk in his lab, a clear glass mug of tea in his hand. “The closest thing I do to dance is tai chi.” He half-smirked and shrugged. “I don't know. I do science.”

Edyta came in, they greeted each other, and she took him by the hands, smiling. “Are you ready for this?”

“No,” Bruce laughed awkwardly.

“No?!”

“Not even close.”

“Well, you will be.”

“If you say so.”

In her interview, Edyta smiled. “I'm always glad to be back. And Bruce is an interesting guy. I think we're going to have a good time.”

In practice, Bruce stumbled. He sighed and looked at Edyta. “Well, at least one of us is good at this.”

Edyta rubbed his shoulder. “We're going to get you good at it, too.”

Bruce shook his head and chuckled. “We'll see.”

“Come on, let's try again.”

In the ballroom, Bruce and Edyta stood hand in hand, nose to nose, him in a green tweed suit, her in a long, flowy, plum colored dress. “Brave” by Sarah Bareilles started, they went into hold and began to foxtrot, Edyta's dress swirling around their legs. Partway through, he stumbled, but kept going through to the end. Once the song ended, Edyta looped her arm through Bruce's, patted his hand, and ducked their heads together to murmur something as they walked over. Tom prompted Len.

“You know, the foxtrot is such an elegant and fluid dance,” Len said, looking down at his notes, “and I just didn’t see that in your performance, I’m afraid.” The crowd booed and Len twisted over his shoulder to tell them off, “I'm only saying what I saw and you all saw it too, you know it.Now, Bruce, your footwork was very clumsy and there were a few times where you just went wrong—”

“I stepped on her dress,” Bruce said, eyes downcast.

“Ah.” Len nodded. “Next week, focus on making your lines sharper and really cleaning up your footwork—and try to avoid her skirts.”

Bruce nodded. Edyta rubbed his arm. Tom prompted, “Bruno?”

“I’m afraid it didn’t quite work for me either, darling,” Bruno said with a shake of his head. “You lost timing a few times, you really lacked a lot of grace and fluidity, and there was the mishap with stepping on her dress. But it’s the first dance and there’s always room for improvement, darling.”

Carrie Ann: “You really gave this dance all you had, which is all we can ask of anyone on the first night. Unfortunately, I do agree with Len and Bruno that this was a very choppy and clumsy dance. You know, you mentioned you do tai chi. Try to channel the fluidity and calm from those movements into your dancing.”

Tom clapped Bruce's shoulder gently. “You and Edyta can go on to the Red Room to get your scores.

“I've just got to say, I love that song,” Erin said as Bruce and Edyta came up to her. “And, if it makes you feel any better, I stepped on the hem of my own dress on the way up to the skybox earlier and nearly fell flat on my face. But how are you feeling?” She held the mic out for Bruce.

He laughed shortly. “Glad it's over, to be honest.”

“What went through your mind when you stepped on her dress?”

“Uh, things I don't think I'm allowed to say on this show.”

Erin and Edyta both laughed. “I'm sure our editors appreciate you saving them the work of bleeping you out,” Erin said. “Let's get your scores.”

Carrie Ann Inaba: “Five.”

Len Goodman: “Five.”

Bruno Tonioli: “Five.”

Bruce looked down. Edyta rubbed his shoulder. “We'll just have to do better next week.”

“Up next,” Tom said as a camera swung around to focus on him, “the man who is, quite literally, out of this world. Let's take a look at Thor and how he got along with Emma.”

Thor settled regally in his chair. “I am Thor Odinson, crown prince of Asgard.” He half shrugged. “I do rather like to dance.” His brow furrowed. “Though I think the only Midgardian dance I actually know is the Macarena….”

When Emma came in, Thor rose from his chair and bowed to her. “Lady Emma.”

“Oh. Oh my. Hi,” she laughed. In her interview, Emma laughed again. “Thor is...fun. He's different. He's fun.”

In the practice room, Thor poked curiously at the stereo. Part of it fell off. He fumbled but managed to catch it, then looked around, wide eyed. “Did anyone see that?”

A voice from behind the camera responded, “It's on film.”

“Oh.” He glanced down at the broken bit in his hand. “I'd fix it but I don't know how.”

Another day in practice, Emma bounced on her toes. “Guess what?”

“What?” Thor asked, putting his hair up in a ponytail.

“We get to wear capes.”

“I love capes.” Thor beamed.

In his own interview, Thor grinned broadly. “Oh I am most certainly having fun. Lady Emma is a most talented dancer and, I must admit, a better teacher than any of the dance teachers hired for my brother and myself in our childhood.” He looked directly at the camera. “I'm sorry, Mother. You did your best.” He managed to keep a straight face for about half a second. His interview cut away.

Emma and Thor stood back to back in the ballroom, each dressed in gold, their red capes a curtain between them as Bastille's “Pompeii” started up. He pushed her 'round to face him, pulled her into hold, and they went foxtrotting across the dance floor, their capes swirling rather than the long skirt her dress didn't have.

At the end of their dance, Thor scooped Emma up and carried her over to the judges, earning laughter from Tom. Thor set her down. Tom gestured to the table. “Let's start with Bruno.”

“Well, I’ve never been in the presence of a god before,” Bruno purred. “You move like royalty, darling, and you made Emma look like your Asgardian princess. The whole production and drama of it was lovely. Next time focus on extending your lines and making your arms move more gracefully.”

“You really do move with this regal quality and your frame is excellent,” Carrie Ann said. “I really thought you brought a lot of energy and emotion to the dance, which is what I always look for. Your footwork was decent, but like Bruno said, you need to focus on making the movement of your arms more fluid and graceful.”

“You really are a leading man,” Len said. “It was a great first performance. But the arms were a bit too stiff for me and the footwork could use improvement, but you really do have a strong stage presence. You move like a prince. Well done.”

Thor and Emma were ushered off to chit chat with Erin. She gave Thor a teasing grin, “That was a nice foxtrot and all, but I think what America really wants to know about is you and the Macarena.”

“Ah, yes.” Thor chuckled. “Lady Darcy made a point of teaching it to me.”

“I love how he just gives all women honorifics,” Emma said, leaning around to the microphone.

“I know, right?” Erin agreed. “But, so, Thor,” she continued seriously, “can we see you do the Macarena?”

He laughed but obliged, which made everyone around him laugh too.

“Oh, that's great.” Erin wiped the corner of her eye. “Okay. Let's get your scores.”

Carrie Ann Inaba: “Seven!”

Len Goodman: “Seven!”

Bruno Tonioli: “Seven!”

Thor and Emma fistbumped.

Tom was chuckling when the camera came back to him. “Is he the God of Thunder or my college roommate? I can't tell. Anyway, moving on to that _other_ guy in a flying suit of armor—not Tony, but his best friend, James Rhodes.”

“My name is James Rhodes, most people who know me call me Rhodey, most people who don't know me call me either Warmachine or Tony Stark's best friend.” Rhodey sighed dramatically. “Yeah, Tony talked me into this. I don't know how he gets me into these things but he's he's been doing it since he was fifteen.” He shrugged. “I'm not real sure how this whole dancing thing is going to go because I, just less than a year ago, had a crash in the suit and broke my back. I'm really just now back on my feet, so, we'll see how things go. This seemed like a good way to get back in shape, if nothing else.”

Alison came in, greeted him, and hugged him gently, all of which he returned. “So,” she began, “tell me about this back injury. How are you doing?”

“Well, I fell out of the sky,” Rhodey laughed darkly, “which resulted in a crush injury to my spinal cord.” He lifted his shirt to show a very sci-fi looking lower back brace. “Tony made me this, which helps nerve signals circumvent the damage. Even with it, I've got some weakness and tingling in my legs and feet, but without it can't stand unassisted.”

Arms crossed, Allison nodded slowly. “Okay. Okay, we can work with that.”

“It's what we've got to work with so I sure hope so,” Rhodey chuckled.

“Yeah it is,” Allison laughed. In her interview, she said, “I'm a little worried about Rhodey's injury, it is a really serious injury and if he didn't have the _absolute_ cutting edge of assistive tech, he couldn't be doing this at all. But he's a tough guy, he got back on his feet, I mean he's been wrangling Tony flippin' Stark for _year_ _s_. He can do this. Totally.”

In rehearsal, Allison showed Rhodey a couple steps and turned over her shoulder to look at him. “Think you can do that?”

“Well,” Rhodey ran a hand over his head, “the feet, sure. That hip thing, I don't think I could've done that _before_ the iron spine.”

“Eh, well, let's find out.”

A different day, Rhodey stepped away from Allison, holding up a “wait” finger, and eased himself to the floor.

“Are you okay?” she asked, wringing her hands.

“Yeah, yeah, I—” he lay flat on his back “—I'm just gonna lie here for a second.” He paused. “I sound like Tony when he's drunk.” Allison laughed and he grinned. “Except he usually jumps back up right after he says that, disappears for a few minutes, then comes back to show you his new rocket powered toaster or whatever sh** he just built.”

Allison laughed harder.

In the ballroom, Rhodey lounged in a transparent, neon pink lawnchair, dressed in khakis and a Hawaiian shirt, sipping from a plastic coconut. The Beach Boys' “Kokomo” started as Allison strutted past him in a very short, _very_ ruffly pink dress. He pushed his sunglasses up to watch her go by, then set them and his drink aside as she turned back with a hairflip to pull him up from his chair to dance a cha cha with him.

She put an arm around his waist to walk over for the judges' comments once they'd finished their dance.

“Well,” Len began as the crowd quieted, “I have to commend you for getting out there when you’re really just getting back on your feet. But I’m going to judge you how I judge everyone else. You kept time with the music, but the movements were a bit stiff, and it just didn’t work as a cha cha cha. But you’re definitely someone to admire for going out there and giving it your all.”

Carrie Ann lay her hands flat on the desk in front of her. “It really is amazing that you were able to do all of that when you’re just getting used to the iron spine, as you put it. That being said, I’m supposed to judge the dancing, which was a bit stiff for a cha cha. But you went out there and it was a lot of fun. Your energy was infectious. And I want that chair.” The crowd—and Rhodey—laughed. “It's a great chair.”

“It really is a fantastic chair,” Bruno agreed, then folded his hands and leaned toward Rhodey. “Darling, I really admire you. Most people in your position would be very scared to put themselves on this show and go all out like you did. However, I agree with Len and Carrie Ann. The hips were a bit too stiff for a cha cha. But I’m excited to see more from you, darling.”

Rhodey nodded. “Thank you.”

Tom ushered them off to Erin. “I wanna go down to Kokomo,” she said as they joined her. “Can we just skip out after this and go to the beach?”

“I wish,” Rhodey said breathlessly. “Kokomo isn't a real place anymore though. They changed the name of the island 'cause that song was causing crowd control problems.”

“I did not know that.” Erin shot an impressed look at the camera then continued. “But seems like you had a bit of a rough time in rehearsal, and you've got some definite criticism from the judges, but how did that feel out there?”

He shook his head and laughed. “You know, I'm just glad to be able to do this at all. I won't be surprised if I go home next week, and even if I do, I'll have had a good time.”

“Aw, that's a great attitude.” Erin turned to the camera. “And I know we haven't been making a big fuss over it like the teleprompter usually tells us to, but there will be an elimination next week, so do vote for your favorites. Let's get their scores.”

Carrie Ann Inaba: “Five.”

Len Goodman: “Five.”

Bruno Tonioli: “Six!”

“Hey,” Rhodey said brightly, “that didn't suck!”

Allison laughed and rubbed his head affectionately. Erin smiled. “Nobody sucked.” She nodded to the camera. “Tom.”

“Thanks, Erin,” Tom said. “Apparently, the plan was to save making a big deal out of voting until the end of the show, but here we are. Anyway, coming up, we've got the fastest man alive—when we come back, we'll see if he could keep up with Anna.”


	4. Chapter 4

“My name is Pietro Maximoff,” Pietro stretched his arms above his head with a grin and a quirk of his eyebrows, “and I'm fast.”

Standing alone in the middle of a wide open rural area, Anna looked around in confusion. “Where is he?” she asked the camera crew, then yelped as a silver blur flashed across the field and solidified into Pietro right behind her. She uttered a string of beeped out curses and he laughed. She looked around again. “Where did you come from?!”

He pointed to a stand of trees way in the distance. “Over there.”

“How far is that?”

“Uh,” he ran a hand through his hair, “about a half mile.”

“How long did it take you to get here?”

“About ten seconds.”

They beeped her out some more.

In his interview, Pietro smirked. “Yes, I can run a twenty second mile.”

In her own interview, Anna put her hands up. “I'm not dancing with a person. I'm dancing with a race car.”

In rehearsal, she kicked his foot lightly. “Stop getting ahead of the music.”

“Sorry.” He jumped up and down a few times to shake himself out. “At least we're not doing a slow dance.”

“You're going to have to eventually, you know.”

He grimaced. “I know.”

Another day, they both lay on the practice studio floor, looking at the ceiling. Suddenly, Anna asked. “Do you speak any Russian?”

He snorted, “Da, nemnogo.”

Subtitles popped up on screen: _Yes, a little._

“Well, that's more than I know of Sokovian.”

“I speak pretty good Ukrainian,” Pietro mused.

Anna grinned. “You're going to be gossiping backstage with Karina and Val, aren't you?”

He laughed. “Oh, yes.”

“Ready to dance?”

“Yup.” He flashed to his feet.

“ _Without_ getting ahead of the music?” she asked as she got up.

“Maybe.” He shrugged.

Back in the ballroom, Anna stood alone at the edge of the dance floor in a dark green halter dress, frustratedly checking her watch under the intro to “Dirty Little Secret” by The All American Rejects, then a spotlight illuminated an upper audience balcony with Pietro standing at the rail in a silver brocade vest. Anna looked up at him, hands on her hips. He shrugged. She glared. In an instant, he was down on the dance floor by her side, her skirts fluttering in the accompanying gust of air. She shoved his shoulders, he grabbed her hands, and they began their jive just as the lyrics started.

Their dance ended with Pietro on the floor, and Anna stepping over him then strutting off toward the judges. The music ended and Pietro popped back up next to her. Tom laughed a little. “You're like a wizard,” Tom said, clapping Pietro on the shoulder. “It's like you apparate. You're not there, then you are.” Tom chuckled again. “Alright, Bruno?”

“Well it’s the fast and furious,” Bruno said loudly, rising from his chair. “You really went full-on and attacked that dance, darling. Your footwork was very sharp, but you were getting ahead of the music so you weren’t in sync with Anna. If you learn how to slow down and follow the beat of the music, you’ll do very well, darling. I know it.”

“I agree with Bruno,” Carrie Ann said. “You did get ahead of the music a lot of the time, which I know will probably be your biggest challenge this season—we saw in the package that you were struggling with that in rehearsal. But you really do have very sharp and clean footwork, so if you learn to handle the timing issue, you’ll be a real contender in this competition.”

“That was a full-on, take no prisoners jive,” Len said definitively. “The kicks and flicks were sharp and your footwork overall was very clean. But you have got to keep in time to the music. You went ahead for most of the time and it was very distracting when you were side-by-side with Anna. Work on that.”

“You two can go on up—” Tom started but didn't have a chance to finish before Pietro had grabbed Anna and vanished in a whoosh.

Things switched to the camera on Erin, where she was laughing in surprise and Anna was clinging to Pietro, eyes wide.

“That looks like fun,” Erin said and held the mic out for Anna.

“That was terrifying,” Anna said. She shoved Pietro lightly. “Warn me before you do that!”

He laughed. “Where's the fun in that?”

“Oh, you're a trouble maker, aren't you?” Erin teased. “And for the record,” she told the camera, “he absolutely has been gossiping with Val and Karina backstage.”

Pietro bit his lip mischievously and nodded. “Yep.”

Erin patted his shoulder. “Let's get your scores.”

Carrie Ann Inaba: “Six!”

Len Goodman: “Six!”

Bruno Tonioli: “Seven!”

Pietro did a little bit of a happy dance, making Anna laugh. Erin handed off to Tom.

“So far tonight we've seen _eight_ superheroes take the floor,” Tom explained. “Coming up now, we've got a couple people who are a bit more like you and me—of course, to say these guys are _just_ lawyers doesn't quite do them justice. We've got both halves of the crack legal team responsible for James Barnes being free to be with us this season. Let's see how things went when one legal partner met his dance partner.”

Sitting on the edge of a boxing ring in his red glasses, a tanktop, and sweats, Matt rubbed his hands together. “I'm Matt Murdock. I'm a lawyer—specifically Bucky Barnes's lawyer.” He half laughed. “They ran out of superheroes so they asked me and my partner. We're not famous but we're better than nobody.”

From behind the camera, one of the producers said, “You're Rob Kardashian famous.”

Matt laughed. “Yeah, okay.”

When Peta came into the gym, Matt had his glasses off and was efficiently pummeling a punching bag. “Hey,” she called.

He put out a hand to still the bag. “Hey,” he responded—a little out of breath but plenty enthusiastic—without turning to her. He stepped away from the bag.

Peta cocked her head to the side and stepped toward him. “Matt, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He offered a hand in her general direction.

“Peta.” She studied his face as she took and shook his hand, then made a sound of realization and put the heels of her hands to her forehead. “You're the blind one.”

“Yes, I'm the blind one,” Matt chuckled.

In her interview, Peta hid behind her hands then peeked through them. “I knew I had one of the lawyers, and I knew one of the lawyers was blind, but I didn't know which was which. I didn't really watch the trial.”

Back in his ring-side interview, Matt said, “Yes, I'm the blind one, but I think I'm going to do okay. I mean, I can box—boxing and dancing are sort of the same thing, right?” He gave a little smirk that made it very hard to tell if he was joking or not.

In the practice studio, Peta pressed her knuckles to her mouth, eyed Matt, and hummed. “I'm trying to figure how to show you the steps.”

Matt shrugged. “Put me where I need to be.”

“Yeah, I mean, stuff like this—” she reached out and manhandled his arm into hold position “—I do that anyway. But for things that move that's not going to work too well.”

“Hm.” Matt cocked his head to the side. “If you explain it to me, then do it, I can probably hear what you're doing.”

“We'll try that then.”

After a couple attempts at teaching a step, Peta shook her head and made a sad sound.

“Not quite?” Matt asked.

“Not quite. Uh. Come here, sit down, and put your hands on my feet. I'll do the step more or less in place.”

Matt chuckled and did as told. “This is going to be a very handsy experience, isn't it?”

“Yup.”

“Should I be scared of your husband?”

“Nahhh,” Peta laughed. “I'm going to do it now, okay?”

“Okay,” Matt responded. She did the step. “Oh, okay, okay.” Matt got to his feet and mimicked the step. “Like that?”

“Yes! Yes, that.”

“I couldn't tell what I was hearing with that toe thing.”

“Well, you've got it now and that's what counts.”

“To the left?”

“Your left, yes.”

In the ballroom, Peta leaned against the judges' desk in a long blue dress with a tuxedoed Matt just in front of her. As the band started up with “Swinging On a Star” by Frank Sinatra, Matt bowed and held a hand out for Peta, which she took and let him lead her onto the floor with a swirl of her dress as she twirled into hold for their foxtrot.

At the end of the dance, they dropped, laughing, into an artful heap on the stairs. Peta pulled Matt back to his feet. He pointed toward a section of audience. “That way?” She pushed his hand to the side a little. “Okay, that way.”

As he and Peta got into place before the judges, Tom prompted, “Carrie Ann?”

Carrie Ann took a deep breath. “Wow. We all saw the trial, and you’re incredible in court. You definitely have presence in front of an audience. That being said, I didn’t know what to expect from you when it came to dancing. I have to say, I’m blown away. You didn’t go wrong at all. You moved so smoothly across the floor with Peta. Incredible. Great start.”

Len held up his hands. “You really gave us such a smooth and sophisticated foxtrot. You kept time with the music, and your footwork was very precise and crisp. You could work on having smoother lines and really finishing those arm movements and that will really help with the grace of it all. Well done.”

“Well, you certainly know how to turn it on for a judge, darling,” Bruno said without a hint of irony. “That was so smooth, so suave. You’re a real leading man. Like Len said, work on finishing those lines to really get that grace and fluidity in the movement. But you’re great, darling. I can’t wait to see more from you.”

Matt nodded graciously, he was handed his cane by a member of the crew, and he and Peta retreated backstage. Erin helped set him in front of the camera. “Here we are. Wow. How was that?”

“That was...different,” Matt said diplomatically, hands folded on his cane.

“But you did a great job and it looked like you had fun.”

“Well it's a fun song and I have a great teacher.” He elbowed Peta lightly in the arm.

Erin directed her next question to her. “How is it for you, dancing with Matt and teaching him?”

“It's requiring a little creativity, but it always does.” Peta smiled. “I think we've got a system worked out and we'll perfect it a little bit each week.”

“Very good. And Matt, am I right that you got a little turned around there at the very end?”

“Just a little. I had the chance to learn my way around pretty well during camera blocking, but there's just a lot going on on the dance floor and it's loud down there. I expected us to be a couple feet farther to the right than we actually wound up but it's fine.”

“Well, that's good. Let's get your scores.”

Carrie Ann Inaba: “Eight!”

Len Goodman: “Eight!”

Bruno Tonioli: “Eight!”

Peta clapped excitedly and Matt smiled.

“That puts you tied for the top with Natasha,” Erin said. “How does that feel?”

“That feels fantastic,” Matt said.

The camera came back to Tom. “That is very exciting to be tied for the top. Let's see if his law partner can do as well with Jenna.”

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Sitting in a very squishy looking armchair, Foggy rubbed his hands together. “My name is Franklin Nelson, but everybody calls me Foggy. I go by Foggy. Seriously, do not call me Franklin, not even my mother calls me Franklin most of the time.”

Jenna ran in and they hugged each other. She grinned at him. “Are you excited?”

“Hell yeah!” He laughed. “Are you excited?”

“Absolutely.”

“Sweet. I'm gonna look like an idiot and it's gonna be great!”

She laughed more and had to turn away, bracing herself against her knees. In her interview she said, “Foggy is a great big goofball. He's so much fun. He's not the most graceful guy in the world but he gets so into whatever he's doing, it doesn't matter, you can't help but enjoy it with him.”

In rehearsal, Foggy nodded at Jenna and played with the drawstrings on his Columbia University Law School hoody. “I'm gonna guess that real cha cha is not like the Cha Cha Slide at all.”

“No.” Jenna shook her head.

“Dang. 'Cause I'm good at the Cha Cha Slide.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jenna laughed.

“Yeah.” Foggy grinned. “Cha cha real smooth,” he said, imitating DJ Casper and doing a couple steps.

“Yes, actually!” Jenna pointed at his feet. “That's the right step!”

“Really?” Foggy asked, astounded.

“Yes!”

“Alright!” He held up a hand and she high-fived him.

Foggy and Jenna stood together in the ballroom, both dressed in yellow, though her outfit had a lot more fringe, which swished energetically as they cha cha-ed to “Tonight Tonight” by Hot Chelle Rae. It wasn't exactly sexy, but it was definitely fun, and by the end of the dance when he and Jenna were waiting for the judges' comments, Foggy was smiling broadly despite being breathless and sweaty. Someone tossed him a towel as Tom signaled Bruno.

“Oh, you’re really the life of the party, my darling. You’re so much fun to watch. But you went wrong so many times, my darling.” Bruno shook his head just long enough for the crowd to finish their murmurings of displeasure. “Your footwork could use a lot of work, and you didn’t have a lot of hip action. But that was such a fun performance, darling.”

“That was so much fun to watch,” Carrie Ann said. “You have such a great smile. You really light up the ballroom, but in terms of dancing, I agree with Bruno. Your footwork could improve, and you really could be a little more graceful. But you really turned the ballroom into a party.”

Len shook his head and sighed. “There really wasn’t much that worked for me there, I’m afraid.” He waved a quieting hand at the crowd and raised his voice to continue over them. “You are a lot of fun, but I’m here to judge the dancing, and there really wasn’t much in there that was great. But it’s only the first dance, you have a lot of room for improvement.”

Jenna rubbed Foggy's shoulder supportively as they went over to Erin.

“How'd that go, huh?” she asked.

“Based on what the judges said, not so great,” Foggy said. He shrugged. “But I had fun and I love that song, and I do not want to hear it again for at least a month—it's been on repeat nonstop this whole time we've been learning the dance.”

“Oh, yeah, I can imagine you're a little sick of it,” Erin said. “Let's go ahead and get your scores.”

Carrie Ann Inaba: “Five.”

Len Goodman: “Five.”

Bruno Tonioli: “Five.”

Foggy grimaced. Jenna patted his arm. “We just gotta do better next week,” she said confidently. “We'll do better next week.”

“That's right,” Erin said. “Tom?”

“Thank you, Erin,” Tom said. “Up next we have the only other lady joining us this season, Pietro's sister, Wanda.”

In the Avengers' common room, Wanda was tucked up in the corner of one of the crisp white couches, eating from a blurred out purple box of what definitely looked like Girl Scout cookies. Her nail polish was chipped. “I'm Wanda Maximoff.” She munched a cookie. “I'm just weird. My brother's fast, and I'm weird.”

When Val got there, he held his arms out to hug her. She gave him an uncertain, questioning look. He shrugged. She shrugged, too, and gave him a one armed hug, her other other hand still occupied by the box of cookies. He eyed the box as they broke apart. “What are those?”

“Coconut.” She held the box toward him. “Want one?”

He tapped his fingertips together then snagged himself a cookie. Mouth half full, he said, “These are good.”

“I know, right?” She ate another cookie herself.

In interview, Val settled into his chair, chuckling. “Wanda's great, she's sweet, she shares her cookies with me.” He grinned.

In practice, Wanda shuffled from foot to foot, one arm hugged across her, gripping her elbow in one hand. “Are you scared of me?”

“What?” Val looked at her aghast. “No. Why would you ask that?”

“Most guys are scared of me.” She dug her toe into the floor.

“Well, you're a pretty girl.” Val shrugged. “Of course they're scared of you.”

She snorted and grinned.

Another day, Wanda tripped over her feet and fell into Val. “Vybačte, vybačte.”

“It's okay.” He paused and cocked his head. “Wait. _Vy rozmovliajete ukrajinśkoju?_ ”

Subtitles popped up: _Do you speak Ukrainian_?

Wanda nodded. “Had a neighbor friend growing up who was Ukrainian.”

“Huh. Cool.”

“My brother speaks it too. He'll probably gossip at you.”

“Okay.” Val laughed. “Not you?”

She grinned. “I don't gossip. I make trouble.”

“Okay.” He laughed more.

In the ballroom, to the Neon Trees' “Everybody Talks,” Val—dressed all in black but for his red kerchief—spent their jive trying and failing to woo Wanda in her red sailor dress. When their dance was over, he rubbed her shoulder, grinning, as they went over to the judges. She nodded and smoothed a hand over the top of her hair, pulled back in a ponytail.

Tom cued Bruno.

“Our other deadly beauty comes out to play,” Bruno crowed, rising from his chair. “You are a gorgeous dancer, darling. Very clean and precise. But I got the sense that you were holding back or scared to let yourself go and have fun. Loosen up a little, my dear. You have the potential to be a star on this show. Enjoy it.”

“That was a very crisp jive,” Len said. “You could control your kicks and flicks a bit more, but it was a very good start. Remember to have fun with this. You’re a lovely dancer, but you need to work on your performance.”

Carrie Ann gave Wanda a smile. “You move beautifully. When we see you on TV, you’re this very powerful, graceful beauty. Deadly in your own right, for sure, but shy and aloof when a camera is on you. I wasn’t totally sure what to expect from you. That was a very clean jive and technically correct. A few places could have used sharper footwork, but it was a great first dance. I just want to see you have fun and let go a little.”

Wanda grinned a little and nodded, then let herself be steered offstage to where Erin was waiting for them.

“Hey,” Erin said brightly, ushering Wanda and Val up to their marks as Wanda smoothed a hand over her hair again. “So, yesterday during camera blocking I know you were nervous about all the people and knowing you were going to be on TV and everything. Feeling better now?”

Wanda shrugged and smoothed her hair again. “I mean, I did it and I didn't panic so, yeah.”

“And you did awesome,” Val interjected.

Wanda grinned and looked down shyly. She smoothed her hair yet again, realized she was, and put her hand down quickly. “Sorry, I never wear my hair up so this is weird.”

“It's cute though,” Erin said. “Very fifties popular girl.”

Pietro popped up out of nowhere to kiss his sister on the cheek. She didn't jump in the slightest, though Erin and Val were quite startled. “My sister is always cute.”

As quickly as he appeared, he was gone, leaving Wanda smiling in his wake. Erin laughed. “I don't think I'm ever going to get used to him. Let's get your scores.”

Carrie Ann Inaba: “Seven!”

Len Goodman: “Seven!”

Bruno Tonioli: “Eight!”

Val hugged Wanda.

“That's good!” Erin said.

“That's really good,” Val agreed. Wanda giggled.

The camera cut to Tom. “She really is cute. Coming up, we have the only guy I know of who's fulfilled man's dream of flying like a bird.”


	6. Chapter 6

Sitting on a park bench in a tank top, Sam smiled at the camera. “I'm Sam Wilson, also known as Falcon. Used to be a paratrooper. Then I retired. Then I met Captain America and that dude is unreasonably good at getting people out of retirement, so now I'm a B-team superhero. Yeah. That happened.”

Witney bounded up to him. “Good morning!”

“Good morning, Drill Sergeant Barbie,” Sam said with a playful grin. “Sam Wilson reporting for duty.”

Witney laughed so hard she had to brace herself on her knees. “You've heard about that, then?”

“Girl, there are T-shirts.” He crossed his arms.

In his interview, dead serious and wearing a Barbie Drill Sergeant T-shirt complete with Barbie font, Sam said, “We all agreed ahead of time that whoever got paired with Witney had to get the shirt. I got the shirt.”

Sam walked into the practice studio wearing the T-shirt. Witney laughed. “Oh my god. You bought it?”

He grinned at her. “You know it. So give me my orders, ma'am.”

She giggled. In her interview she said, “Sam is fun. He's so much fun.”

In the studio, Witney rubbed her hands together. “So we're doing the song 'Aquarius' by Aqua.”

Sam looked at her funny and slowly tilted his head. “Isn't that the Barbie Girl band?”

“Yes.”

“Is this because you're Drill Sergeant Barbie?”

“No. And the song is very different.”

“If you say so,” Sam said skeptically.

“I say so.”

In the ballroom, Sam, dressed in a plain white T-shirt and soft, dark blue pants, wrapped his arms around Witney who wore a soft, flowy blue dress. Their contemporary to “Aquarius” was slow, smooth, and something like a Nicholas Sparks musical. In any case, it was absolutely nothing like Barbie Girl. When their dance was done, Sam hugged Witney, picked her up bridal style, carried her over to the judges, and set her down. Tom patted his shoulder. “You and Thor, huh? Always picking up women, aren't you? I'm joking.” He gestured to the judges. “Len, let's start with you.”

“I’m just going to say what everyone is thinking,” Len said, looking down at his notes. “You are a great dancer. There was lovely fluidity in the arms, your footwork was clean, you provided strong support in the lifts. I would have liked to have seen more chemistry between you and Witney. But well done.”

“I actually disagree with Len,” Carrie Ann began without prompting. “You know, I really look for emotion when I watch people dance, and you brought it. It was beautiful technically and very impactful emotionally. When you danced, the ballroom got quiet. We were mesmerized by the performance. Amazing job.”

Bruno nodded, gesturing across Len at Carrie Ann, then turned to Sam. “You dance as smoothly as you fly, my darling. There was so much grace in that dance and we all couldn’t help but watch you. I agree with Carrie Ann, your connection with Witney was strong. The others better watch out for you because you’re not a sidekick on the dancefloor. Absolutely beautiful, my darling.”

Sam chuckled. “Thank you.”

Tom ushered them on with an, “Off to the skybox with the two of you.”

“That really was gorgeous,” Erin said as Sam and Witney joined her. “Now, very important question: dancing or flying, which is better?”

Sam laughed. “Well, I'm a little biased toward the whole flying thing. Dancing is a whole lot of fun, though. And safer.”

Witney made a sound in her throat. “I'd take that up with Sharna's knee.”

“I'd take it up with Rhodey's back,” Sam countered.

Witney shut her mouth quickly while Erin tried to school her expression into something neutral. “Let's get your scores.”

Carrie Ann Inaba: “Eight!”

Len Goodman: “Seven!”

Bruno Tonioli: “Eight!”

“Hey!” Sam exclaimed while Witney bounced on her toes. Erin laughed gently before cueing Tom.

“Our last dance of the night,” Tom said, “is from the closest thing we're ever going to get on this show to Legolas. Let's see how things went for Clint and Lindsay.”

“My name is Clint Barton,” Clint said in front of a backdrop of gently fluttering leaves. The camera zoomed out to show that he was sitting in the crook of a tree branch twenty feet off the ground. “I'm Hawkeye, and I am not afraid of heights.” He laughed. The camera cut back in close. Clint lounged comfortably against the tree. “I've never had any dance training but Natasha's been making me dance with her almost as long as I've known her, and I was a circus brat, so this'll be fun.”

Lindsay walked up to the tree, craned her neck to look at Clint, who waved at her, she looked at the camera crew, then back up at her new partner. “Are you serious?”

“No.” He hopped down from branch to branch and landed in front of her. “I'm Clint.” He grinned.

In her interview, Lindsay facepalmed. “Oh, what have I gotten myself into.”

Lindsay walked into the practice studio to find Clint already there, casually walking around on his hands. Lindsay stopped in the still open door. He flipped back over onto his feet. “Hi.”

“You just do stuff like this all the time, don't you?”

“Yup,” he said brightly and bounced on the balls of his feet. “If I'm not so focused I'm holding my breath, I'm probably climbing the walls.”

Lindsay nudged the door shut. “Oh boy, teaching you is going to be interesting.”

“If you've got me moving, we'll be fine.”

“Okay.”

In his interview, solidly in a leather chair now, Clint ran a hand through his hair. “There's a good chance I'm ADHD, yeah. Never been diagnosed, but….” He shrugged.

In the studio, Lindsay guided Clint through twirling her. “And one, two—” she smacked his elbow up and stepped away to start the move over.

In the ballroom, Clint was seated at a piano in gray slacks and a loose, purple buttonfront; Lindsay, in a pale yellow dress, draped fetchingly across the lid of the baby grand as Clint himself played the beginning of Billy Joel's “Piano Man.” The band took over music duty and Clint swept Lindsay off the piano to dance their contemporary amid an impressive swirl of her skirt. After sashaying, sweeping, and twirling all over the dancefloor, at the end of the song, Clint and Lindsay settled side by side on the piano bench—then trotted over to Tom and the judges.

“Carrie Ann?” Tom prompted.

“What I like about you,” Carrie Ann said, gesturing with her pen, “is that you gave it your all and really just had fun with this dance. The footwork could have been a bit more graceful, but those lifts were incredible. I’m excited to watch you grow on this show. You have a lot of potential and we can tell that you’re having fun with this process.”  
“If only your footwork was as precise as your aim, my darling,” Bruno said with a dramatic sigh. “You are a joy to watch and you really know how to put on a performance. Just work on tightening up the footwork and working on the fluidity of the movement, and you could really succeed here, darling.”  
Len shrugged and shook his head. “Well there’s no denying that you gave it your all in this dance, but it just didn’t work for me, I’m afraid. Your footwork could be cleaner and you lacked grace at times. You also lost timing when you were side-by-side with Lindsay. But I see a lot of potential in you. It was a good first go.”

Clint gave an amicable shrug and let himself be steered off to chat with Erin. He positively skipped up to her, arm in arm with Lindsey like they were off to see the wizard. “So, a good first go, according to Len,” Erin said. “How'd it feel?”

“So good.” Clint laughed. “So much fun.”

“How are you getting along with Lindsay?”

“Well,” he looked at her and shrugged, “my best friend is Natasha Romanov. I'm kinda used to the tiny and terrifyingly competent thing. And this one just smacks me.” He pointed at Lindsay. “I've got bullet scars from that one.” He pointed across the room. The cameraman obligingly swung around to show Natasha sprawled across Bucky's lap, sipping from a styrofoam cup. She grinned wickedly and waved.

The camera turned back to show Clint sticking his tongue out at her. Erin laughed. “Okay, let's see your scores.”

Carrie Ann Inaba: “Six!”

Len Goodman: “Six!”

Bruno Tonioli: “Six!”

“Yo! That didn't totally suck!” Clint announced happily. Lindsay leaned on him, laughing at his exuberance.

“Gotta love that positivity,” Erin said, picking her way over to Tom. “And a great note to end things on.”

“That's all we have for tonight,” Tom said. “And, I know we haven't been making our usual fuss about it, but do go online or call to vote for your favorites.”

“Unfortunately, next week, someone does have to go home.” Erin pouted. “We hate to see anybody go though.”

“Of course.” Tom touched her elbow then gave a little wave to the camera. “Tonight, though, everybody stays and that's all we've got. Up next on ABC: Dog Cops.”


End file.
